


Not Quite Insomniac

by dillydallybutterfly



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, really short drabbles, this is such a cliche thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dillydallybutterfly/pseuds/dillydallybutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's pretty sure he's passed the 72-hour mark, which he knows everyone hates, but he just can't help it when it's his fault that things happen, and there's just nothing like the sound of rock music and the feel of his hands working.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Insomniac

Tony’s pretty sure he’s passed the 72-hour mark; passed it more than a few hours ago, since Dummy’s bugged him more times than he can count, and he’s had to threaten JARVIS approximately the same number of times with his blowtorch. The coffee machine he installed in the lab has proven to be extremely useful, and he’s emptied the pot four and a half times, and a chilly mug is sitting at his elbow - soon he should get a fresh one - but the glass pot’s still got steam leaking out of it, so he’s got plenty of time.

Or maybe that’s not such a good idea, because the hand holding the high-tech soldering iron - hand-made by Tony, obviously - is shaking a little, more than just a tremor, and any minute now he’s going to knock the diamond-edged saw sitting on the workbench onto his foot and he really needs that foot for walking. He doesn’t want to end up in the hospital - Steve; Steve’s in the hospital because of Tony’s recklessness, and Tony admits somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind that maybe that’s the reason he’s pushing himself like this, but at least he hasn’t tried to drink himself into a stupor yet. Maybe Steve is rubbing off on him a little, and wouldn’t that be great because, well, Steve is great.

But he’s been in the hospital for far too long, now, for a super-serum-solder (Ooh, lots of ‘S’s, says Tony’s bleary mind) and Tony’s trying really, really hard not to think of what would have happened if they’d been under the enormous, melting crane for much longer. Tony turns off his soldering iron and picks up his coffee, careful again of the saw, and meanders over to his coffee pot, where the newest, not-yet-released model of the Starkphone sits on the table. He’s still considering pouring himself another caffeine-laced cup when he hears the pneumatic hiss of the door. He doesn’t bother looking up, knows it’ll be Pepper with more things to sign and a lecture on proper sleeping habits.

“Pep! Thought I told JARVIS to tell you to leave stuff in the upstairs office. Promise I’ll check. I think I slept, too, don’t worry. Look, coffee, I’ll be okay…” Tony’s confused, because Pepper would have interrupted him by now, and he looks over with one eyebrow already poised in a silent question and _shit-_

“Steve!” He grins and waves cheerily. “You’re alright, hey, nice to see you. I’ve been fixing up the suit while you were in the hospital - worked fast and everything, look!” Tony turns around to point, and swears loudly because the soldering iron apparently isn’t off; instead it’s in the process of melting a hole in the workbench and he sprints over to turn it off properly this time and put it in its holder just in case.

“Tony,” Steve says cautiously, and Tony can tell he’s taking in the situation with his sharp blue eyes.

“Steve,” Tony repeats, mimicking Steve’s tone. “Hey, uh, what day is it?” Steve frowns, because Tony’s sure he knows that he only asks what day it is when he’s passed the 72-hour mark that Dummy and JARVIS nag him about.

“Monday, Tony. It’s Monday.”

“Oh, jeez, it’s only been a couple days? I could’ve sworn it was longer,” Tony crows cheerfully, and Steve’s frown deepens; he gets that little wrinkle on his forehead that Tony wants to smooth and kiss away.

“No, it’s been nine days. Are you okay, Tony?” Steve’s voice is gentle and slow, and Tony resents that, because, hey, he knows how to take care of himself (sometimes).

“Oh. Well. Uh, nine days is nothing. It’s not a record or anything. I’ve gone two weeks before, I’m not even tired yet,” Tony babbles, setting down his coffee cup on the table. “I think I’ll finish up the suit before I finally call it quits - I really need to work on a few things, the balance between heat resistance and cold resistance is off, it either gets too brittle or melts-”

“Okay, I think that’s enough for you. You’re shaking, Tony, and you’ve probably overdosed on caffeine. Bed,” Steve interrupts, unfolding his arms and instead tucking them around Tony. Tony frowns, because he hates being coddled, but it’s really, really warm and it feels a lot safer than being inside a gold-titanium alloy (NOT iron; Tony knows that Gold-Titanium Man sounds wrong, though, so he puts up with it) suit.

“Mmm… okay. I can sleep if you promise to stick around. You don’t have any injuries I should worry about messing up while I sleep, do you?” Tony squints up at Steve, whose mouth is twitched into an amused smile.

“No. I’m all healed,” Steve replies, pressing a kiss to the gap between Tony’s eyebrows.

“Okay. Great. Good. I’m just gonna…” Tony doesn’t remember it later and vehemently denies it for the rest of his life, but he drops out of consciousness in the comfort of Steve’s arms and all he  _does_ remember is thinking  _I should do this more often_.

**Author's Note:**

> So I still don't really know what I'm doing??  
> I can't write long things, honestly, I can't make plots I can just string words together in things resembling nice sentences.  
> AND I NEED A BETA. :c


End file.
